Xenotech Rising: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 1)

by Dave Schroeder

“Chit should help there,” I said. “My guess is the VIGorish Labs’ security sensors would find everything except organic materials. They’ll confiscate my cell phone and tech tools but they shouldn’t spot my Orishen pupa silk vest or Chit hiding in the hair at the back of my neck. Chit can communicate via her internal congruency with another Murm who could pass messages along to Tomáso.”

  “There are three Murms living in the royal palace on Dauush,” said Tomáso. “I’m sure one of them would agree to act as a real time relay.”

  “Make it so,” I said. I turned to Shepherd.

  “I will take the steps I outlined earlier to buy us time to operate,” he said. “Many people owe me favors.” I nodded. I was one of them. “I will also investigate VIGorish Labs’ financial position in more detail to confirm that a simple demand for ransom is not the motivation for the kidnapping.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said. I could sense furious activity behind the Long Pâkk’s bear-like eyes. He’d have a few other tricks up his sleeve for Tony Zed, I was sure.

  The meeting ended and Poly, Spike and I headed for my apartment. We entered and Spike paced the length of my living room. I opened Chit’s bottle and she stuck her head out. Her wing sheathes were a bright Dauushan pink with blue polka dots like a lady bug version of a juvenile Dauushan. We filled her in on our plan.

  “Count me in on takin’ down that kidnappin’, grajja fabricatin’ scum,” she said. “Though the end of that parade was really somethin’…”

  “You should have been there,” I said.

  “Just a sec, Jack,” said Chit, popping back in her bottle and smelling like ink jet printer ink when she reemerged with a camouflage pattern the exact shade of brown as my hair.

  “Perfect,” said Poly.

  “Thanks, doll.”

  Chit found a spot at the back of my neck and according to Poly she blended so well she couldn’t be seen.

  “Let me know when you’ve got the link in place to Dauush,” I said.

  “Tomáso says it’s done,” said Chit, thereby demonstrating that it was.

  “Great.” Then I thought of something. It would be counterproductive for Chit to have to talk to pass messages to me. “Do you know Pyr pulse-code?” I asked.

  “Ancient or modern?”

  “Either.” Chit tapped out “Works for me” in the modern variation and I tapped my teeth softly to send back “Me, too,” in ancient. It’s good to have smart friends.

  “Where’s the B.I.T.S. suit?” asked Poly. She looked like she was ready to start pacing next to Spike.

  I pulled the suit from my backpack tool bag and showed Poly how to adjust it for maximum effectiveness. When she was fully covered, Chit and I couldn’t see her even though we knew where she’d been a few moments earlier. Morphicouture did good work. I had an idea and sent Ellie a text asking her to sew up another item from B.I.T.S. cloth and messenger it to my apartment ASAP. She replied and said I’d have it in less than thirty minutes. Thank you Ellie!

  I remembered something important and asked my cell phone a key question. “How fast can you get a blank phone delivered here and clone yourself?”

  “The phone store in Ad Astra will have a unit delivered in ten minutes—and I can clone myself in another ten.”

  “Don’t include any sensitive stuff on the clone. It’s probably going to be confiscated and I don’t want any client data compromised.”

  “What kind of encryption do you think I’m using?” said my phone, petulantly.

  “They can’t decrypt what’s not there.”

  “True enough. I’ll take care of it.”

  I heard someone rummaging around under the sink in my kitchen. Poly’s head appeared, floating in mid-air, as she unfastened the hood of the B.I.T.S. suit and looked at us, a female version of the Cheshire Cat. I blew her a kiss. She pursed her lips and kissed the air to send one back to me in return. Seeing her face without the rest of her was really disconcerting.

  “Can I help you find anything in particular?”

  “The plastic tarp we had on the table for the rabbot autopsy.”

  “To the right of the stove.”

  “Got it.”

  The folded plastic tarp was floating in midair below Poly’s face. I felt her body press against me and she gave me a kiss. Then I saw the floating plastic tarp, accompanied by Spike, exit through my apartment’s front door.

  Then my front door chimed. Twice.

  “You have a delivery,” said my cell phone. “You have a delivery.”

  “You said that.”

  “The redundancy was intentional.”

  I opened the door and found two delivery drones hovering at waist level. I acknowledged both shipments and opened the two packages. One was from the local phone store and had the target blank cell phone. I turned on the device and put it next to my phone so it could work its replicative magic. The other box was from Morphicouture. I literally couldn’t see what it contained, but I felt inside until my fingers identified a large bag made from B.I.T.S. cloth. I put the invisible bag in my backpack to give to Poly. It seemed fitting that she’d put my backpack into the invisible bag when we got to VIGorish Labs.

  While my phone was cloning I exercised its multitasking capabilities and made the calls required to ensure a key element of our plan would be in place. Everything was set—so far, so good. I emptied my pockets of items I didn’t want to lose, like the stun-phone I’d taken from Cornell and my Swiss Army knife, and put them in one of my backpack tool bag pockets. I’d done all the prep work I could. It was time to make the phone call I really didn’t want to make.

  “Call Anthony Zwilniki.”

  My phone, preoccupied with cloning itself, indicated its displeasure with a rude beep. I shared my phone’s distaste for the man. I heard the numbers pulsing as the call went through.

  “Hello, Jack,” said Tony Zed. “I hope you have good news for me.”

  “I do. After the craziness at the parade this morning my plans for the day got put on hold, so I’m free to start work for you this afternoon if that’s convenient.”

  I heard what I could only call a menacing chuckle from the other end of the line. It gave me chills.

  “That’s great, Jack. Meet me in front of my headquarters building in an hour.”

  “See you then.”

  Zwilniki cut the connection.

  I felt insistent touches on the back of my neck.

  “Good luck,” tapped Chit. “You’re gonna need it.”

  Chapter 25

  “Never was anything great achieved without danger.” ― Niccolò Machiavelli

  Poly and I finished our remaining preparations. She pulled the hood up on the Blend Into The Scenery suit, then put my backpack tool bag in the B.I.T.S. bag Ellie had just sent. I wasn’t going to carry my backpack when I reported to work, since if I did I was sure it would be confiscated. The plan was for Poly to stash it someplace out of the way where I could retrieve it surreptitiously if circumstances permitted. Poly had already walked Spike back to Tomáso and Terrhi’s apartment. He would have a role to play if things went the way I expected. Poly had also given Tomáso what she’d collected while I was making calls, part of her inspired idea to bring confusion to the enemy.

  The two of us walked through the courtyard, took the stairs down to the parking level, and climbed into my van. She was in the passenger seat, for now, but once we got close to the VIGorish Labs campus Poly would shift to sit on my lap to confuse any infrared sensors. Having Poly on my lap was one of the few things happening in the next hour that I was looking forward to. We both buckled up and my van navigated its way out of the garage, using a rear exit to stay well away from the chaotic scene on Peachtree Street. As we headed south, my nervousness increased. Poly distracted me with good advice.

  “Jack, tell your van not to complain about seat belts when I’m sitting on your lap.”

  “Good catch,” I said, and did so. I didn’t need my van’s anally retentive babbling givi
ng Poly away.

  I felt Poly’s hand on mine but didn’t see it. Reflexively, I turned to face her then remembered the B.I.T.S. suit and just smiled at what seemed to be empty air. I squeezed her Adam Smith-style invisible hand but it wasn’t the same with her wearing gloves. Then I felt a prickling sensation on the back of my neck. Chit was tapping the modern Pyr pulse code equivalent of “Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3. Is this thing on?”

  I clicked my teeth and pulsed out “Don’t clown around.” Chit must have relayed that phrase because Poly laughed.

  “I was just trying to make you smile.”

  “Oh. You’re the one sending irrelevant messages.”

  “They’re not irrelevant. It’s awkward to keep my phone in my pocket so it stays invisible. I needed to test whether or not texts I sent to Tomáso by tapping its screen were coming through accurately and were being properly routed. I’m glad they’re getting to you.”

  “Thank you, dear lady.”

  I leaned over in Poly’s general direction and made kissing motions with my lips. I felt hers meet mine through a layer of invisibility cloth.

  “Get a room,” said Chit.

  “When this is over you can count on it,” said Poly. That was sounding more and more like an excellent, if distracting idea. To keep focused I reviewed our plan.

  “When we get to VIGorish Labs I’ll follow Zwilniki’s lead and either park the van at his HQ or follow him where he wants to go.”

  “Right. At some point you’ll park and I’ll follow you on foot as far as I can without running a tight security gauntlet.”

  “Correct. If you can, stash the B.I.T.S. bag with my backpack somewhere nearby where I can grab it…”

  “And otherwise stay close, stay vigilant, stay in touch and stay flexible.”

  “Just play it by ear, doll,” said Chit.

  The cloned version of my phone buzzed. “There’s an update on Terrhi. It’s a press conference.”

  “Put it on the windshield screen.”

  Poly and I watched, and what we saw confirmed that Shepherd had come through as promised. Atlanta’s mayor and chief of police were on a dais flanked by the governor, the local FBI Special Agent in Charge and the Deputy Director of Homeplanet Security for the Southeastern U.S. The mayor was talking. “Atlanta, the proud Gateway to the Stars, must be the city too busy to hate Galactics, no matter how much property was damaged or how many lives were at risk.” She took a deep breath and continued. “I have every confidence that our outstanding law enforcement and investigative personnel will resolve this situation rapidly and will locate the kidnapped Dauushan girl. Please note that her name is being withheld at this time to protect her privacy. The Dauushan consulate is offering a fifty thousand galcred reward for information leading to the safe return of their citizen. If anyone has any leads regarding this situation, please contact the relevant authorities via our hotline, email address, website, text number or NYT-Twitter feed, as shown.” A slide with the various options appeared on screen. There’d be protests from advocates for multiple other social media channels about their preferred option not being included, but they weren’t my problem.

  “That should buy us twenty-four hours,” said Poly’s disembodied voice from the passenger’s seat.

  “The reward should muddy the water for the FBI and HPS agents,” I said. “They’ll be so busy running down false leads they won’t find Terrhi until it’s time for her Coronation.”

  “Don’t joke about that, Jack,” said Chit. “We just think we know where she is. We can use all the help we can get.”

  “Quiet, everybody,” I said, even though I couldn’t see anyone else in the van with me. “We’re almost there.”

  Poly disconnected her seat belt and slid over on to my lap. She felt warm and huggable. I had to restrain myself from putting my arms around her. Chit and Poly stopped talking and the only things communicating with me were the Orishen adult-form butterflies occupying my stomach. I took a few deep breaths and felt Poly’s warm back against my chest. Somehow that helped my nervousness recede. I could do this.

  My van turned into the side road leading into the VIGorish Labs complex and drove to the front of their headquarters building. Since it was a Saturday, there were only a few cars in the parking lot. As my van arrived I saw Anthony Zwilniki step out of a mirror-finish Teslamborghini. I pulled alongside him, rolled down my window, and waited for him to speak.

  “I’m glad you could get here today,” said Zwilniki. There seemed to be a permanent sneer in his tone if not on his face. “You might remember I said I’m on a tight time table.”

  “The events at the parade this morning forced me to change my plans,” I said. “A romantic lunch with a pretty girl at a fancy Buckhead restaurant was off the table after rampaging Dauushans smashed in dozens of storefronts.”

  “I saw it on video. Galactics can’t be trusted. Dauushans, Pyrs, Pâkk, Nicósns, Tigrammaths, Tōdons. None of them.”

  I wouldn’t dignify that statement with a reply. Zwilniki gave me a hard look.

  “Follow me.” Zwilniki got into his sports car and revved his engines. Sparks flew out of fake exhaust pipes on the sides of the streamlined vehicle. I told my van to make a U-turn and follow the sports car, getting an “As you wish” from my van for my trouble. Despite the ugliness of its driver the Teslamborghini was great looking car. I appreciated its rear end design as I trailed along. Zwilniki’s custom license plate read EUA ZED. He must have gotten it since EUA Corporation’s acquisition of VIGorish Labs. I was surprised he’d allowed his company to be acquired. Tony Zed didn’t seem like the sort of person who wanted to have someone above him in a corporate hierarchy.

  I heard a sharp, keening sound ahead of me and wondered if it was from the aerodynamics of Zwilniki’s car slicing through the air. Then I realized what it had to be and remembered the instrument Teslamborghini Motors had been assigned by the harmonic standards committee—the glass armonica. Leave it to a pretentious ass like Tony Zed to pick a car that sounded like a finger rubbing the rim of a crystal goblet. The notes it made were beautiful in their own way, and ethereal, but they cut straight from my ear to my brain and left me even more on edge.

  It didn’t take Zwilniki long to arrive at his destination—the giant building close to a spaceport taxiway that appeared to be a hanger for an armada, or maybe just storage for Tony Zed’s collection of classic cars. My money was on the former. Zwilniki pulled into the hanger’s parking lot, taking up four spaces to reduce the odds of any other vehicle damaging his two million galcred baby. I told my van to park a few spaces away. The building was huge, at least two and a half football fields on a side. It was a plain, gray, windowless steel frame structure with giant rolling doors on the side facing the taxiway and a dozen loading docks on the opposite wall.

  A small, human-sized door was in the side of the building closest to the parking lot. Zwilniki turned off his sports car after one last macho shower of sparks then climbed out of the gull-wing door on the driver’s side and headed toward the entrance. He motioned to me. I opened my van’s door and Poly and I got out. It wouldn’t do for surveillance cameras in the parking lot to see my van’s door open without anyone there. I walked over to join Zwilniki.

  “Right this way,” said Tony Zed as he unlocked the door and waved me through it. I could feel scanning fields checking me out as I crossed the threshold. Poly would be wise not to enter. It was dark inside and Zwilniki crowded in close as he stepped behind me to relock the door. My eyes were still trying to adjust to my dim surroundings when I heard two military grade sweeteners warming up, if you’ll pardon the expression. My blood turned cold without being hit by the sweeteners’ molasses chill field when I also heard the unmistakable sound of a pistol slide being racked. Sweeteners weren’t lethal. Guns were. This was not good. Then the lights came on. Lots and lots of lights.

  Hundreds of small congruencies connected to the stellar corona of the nearest Type G2V star flooded the space with lumens in a
spectrum finely tuned to match the human eye. I could see that the hanger held surplus warp-capable freighters from the Pâkk-Orish War. There must have been more than a hundred of them stretching off into the distance. Each was the size of a double-wide double-decker bus. Their bulk filled the enormous hanger and made me feel small. Three men were standing a few feet away—Penn and Princeton armed with sweeteners and Cornell with a pistol. They made me feel smaller still. My brain summoned up witty Spider-Man style banter like “Hi, guys! Miss me?” but my sense of self-preservation won out. I kept my mouth shut and put my hands up. It was their move. I tapped out a message to Tomáso and Poly disguised as my teeth chattering and filled them in on the situation. There was probably a lot of gibberish in the message from legitimate fear as well. Chit’s legs grasped my neck more tightly. I don’t think she was fond of our present circumstances, either. Stiff upper lip, old girl.

  Cornell frisked me, none too gently, and took my clone phone and Swiss Army knife. He dropped the former in a small Faraday bag so it couldn’t connect to any networks.

  “Sucks to be you,” he whispered to me, then looked at his boss.

  “Just so you know,” said Tony Zed. “We know you know.”

  “I know,” I said. He gave me an STFU look.

  “The girl is hostage for your good behavior,” said Cornell. What? Did that mean they had Poly, too?

  “And the good behavior of her planet,” said Zwilniki. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. They were talking about Terrhi.

  “What do you want?” I said. I didn’t use my happy voice.

  “I’ve got 144 hyper-capable Orish freighters,” said Zed. “I need you to reconfigure them as troop transports.”

  That was easy. The starships had started out as troop transports and it was just a matter of resetting them to their default mode, but Anthony Z. and his three stooges didn’t need to know that. I suspected my life expectancy would be very short if they ever figured it out.

  “I can give it a try.”

  “There is no try,” said Zed. I hate that phrase.